The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 350

"Silas."

He looked down.

The woman was sitting low on the sofa, forcing her to gaze up at him, making her clear, bright eyes look impossibly huge. "I beat the hell out of Grace. Are you mad?"

He didn't answer.

"I didn't hit her hard enough."

Vivian didn't even blink. "Those two slaps didn't even come close to making up for this one. I'm utterly furious. Can I take the rest of my rage out on you, exactly like Miss Gifford tried to do to me?"

Silas narrowed his eyes slightly. Whatever he was thinking, a faint, dangerous smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

"You're welcome to try."

It sounded entirely like a suggestion, but it hit like a threat.

With that, he turned and walked out of the bedroom.

Vivian glared at his retreating back, grinding her teeth so hard they nearly cracked.

Try?

How the hell was she supposed to try?

Given where they stood right now, she absolutely didn't dare risk it. If she genuinely offended this man, wouldn't he just completely cut her off?

Then everything she had done up until now would have been entirely for nothing.

Vivian exhaled softly, grabbed the book from earlier, and marched straight into the study.

Silas had designed the house himself. The study was massive, featuring a long sofa positioned directly across from the desk. She swaggered in and sprawled out in the most comfortable position possible.

She flipped the book open, intentionally making the pages rustle loudly.

The man stared at his computer screen, completely ignoring her.

Vivian kept shooting him quick glances. The glow of the monitor entirely illuminated his flawlessly handsome face, highlighting his sharp brows and composed, deeply elegant aura. Everything about him radiated the calm, terrifying authority of a man entirely used to being in control.

Rustle, rustle.

She purposefully made more noise.

He still refused to look at her. Just then, his phone vibrated, and he took the call out on the balcony.

When he returned a few moments later, the woman on the sofa was still violently flipping pages—

Honestly, she looked less like she was reading a book and more like she was frantically searching for a hidden martial arts manual.

He lowered his eyes, a fleeting smile vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

Vivian's long hair fell wildly around her shoulders. She wore absolutely zero makeup, yet she was undeniably breathtaking.

She leaned heavily on one arm, the curve of her waist dropping perfectly against the cushions.

She had kicked off her shoes, her entirely delicate, pale feet creating a stark, stunning contrast against the dark leather sofa.

"Come here and I'll tell you."

"Tell me or don't."

"..."

Seeing him lower his head again, Vivian frowned in sheer frustration, unable to hold back any longer.

"Why did you insist on driving her home earlier?"

He shot her a cool glare. "You just beat the hell out of her. Am I not supposed to clean up your mess?"

"I beat her?" Vivian's eyes went entirely wide. She pointed a finger firmly at her own face. "Are you blind? If she hadn't slapped me first, do you honestly think I would have fought back? And I certainly didn't hit her nearly as hard as she hit me."

Silas stared intensely at her face for two full seconds. He said absolutely nothing and simply went right back to work.

"..." That complete bastard!

Fuming, Vivian leaped off the sofa and stormed over to his desk. "Silas, the least you could do is grab me some ointment or something! It hurts. It hurts so badly... ah..."